Incubator
by Emerald-Lights
Summary: “I wasn't allowed to call it an 'it' any more...." Ginny's pregnant and not-impressed by 'it'... or the baby.


A/N: Inspired by my sister-in-laws constant complaining about being pregnant. There's a lot of of key slogans in here direct from her mouth. The 'it' is from me. Czechoslovakian crystal was inspired by my grandmother for giving me a Czechoslovakian crystal clock for my twenty-first birthday and to my friends for asking me 'WFT' when I got it. Although, I do kind of like my clock and definitely love my grandmother!! (p.s. My Beta is taking a break, so bare with me, Thanks.)

* * *

I hate these clothes. They don't fit. None of my clothes fit, but winter clothes? No they don't fit – _worse_. I couldn't get the toggles of my favourite woollen jacket to got around me and I wasn't going to magically enlarge it - blasphemy! It took a mission and a half to get something that wrapped around my enlarged stomach. I had to tuck my shirt into my elastic waisted jeans to stop the cold getting to my exposed skin under my jacket and - I look like a fat dork!

Maybe I hate the largeness of my stomach as it is the reason I hate the clothes. It's so big. Now mum says '_Gin, it's not going to get that much bigger_' but that is so beside the point. It's big _now_ and 'not much bigger' still implies _more_ _growth._ More growth! And then she says '_your all baby. It's like someone just stuck it to your stomach_'. Of course then all my sister in laws go _on and on_ about the baby weight they put on and how I am so small compared to them and I cringe. When this growth leaves me it's going to leave a _blabby loose stomach_ behind. I'm going to be _Blabbly-Loose-Ginny_, and that's not just talking about my stomach either. My expanded stomach has restricted more than just my clothes. I can't sleep on my front which I had always done. No, now its a twisted version of what was once maybe a normal position with pillows tucked in places for support. I can't sit in some kinds of chairs and usually always need help getting up. The weight of the bloody thing hurts my feet and swelled my ankles. Yes, one day last week I ventured out of the house with socks on in my sandals. Like I said before – _Fat dork_.

Perhaps it was really what was inside my stomach that I didn't like. After all that was the reason for my large stomach and thus the reason for the large clothes. A baby. It's all good in theory. Frightening in really life. Scary because I didn't know if I'd be able to look after it. What if Harry and I broke _it_? Mum ensures me babies are more durable then we think but I know that doesn't mean that we can be anything but _way_ over cautious. These kinds of feelings are normal, so I am guaranteed. What I'm worried about the most though, and I mean sleepless nights kind of worried, is that what if I don't love _it_? What if _it_ doesn't love me? Harry told me that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. '_Oh course he loves you. How could he not?_'

But then I've never referred to it as '_he_' or even '_she_'. I have no '_gut feelings_' on what sex it is. It's inside of me and yet, Harry is the one whom seems to have the the biggest grasp. I've said it more than once, I am just an _incubator_. Harry thought I was joking, I mostly wasn't. Who could blame the bloke for loving the baby so much? You marry a quidditch player and then _poof_, she's a fatty. Babies are more loveable then fatties. I think. No offence to the fatties of the world but I'm not liking being one much. Than Harry says '_your not fat, your pregnan_t' and then tells me '_I still think your beautiful_' and that's about the time I say '_shut the fuck up Harry_' because the balmy hormones kick in. I've heard some of my brothers muttered words like _unreasonable_ and _bitch._ To which I replied '_you go shit out a watermelon and see if I'm being unreasonable._"

Anyway, words like _beautiful_ and _pretty_ do not compare to words like _sexy_ or _minx_. So don't try tell me other wise. Then one day, maybe as a joke, I'm not sure yet, Harry called me _mummy._

"_Mummy?"_

"What? You will be one in less than a month---"

_Mummy_ is like, the biggest turn off ever so Harry was lucky I was too far along to to safely have sex or we definitely would have stopped having sex like – ever. Although, I honestly wouldn't have lasted forever, but there would definitely have been a dry patch that _I _would impose, and not the baby.

_Mummy_. After that, that title stuck with me. I would forever be a mum. And to become a mum I had to give up my other titles like 'quidditch player', 'sexy', 'minx' and 'petite' to become 'mummy'(well as 'blabby-loose Ginny', 'unreasonable' and 'bitch'). And what had Harry given up? Nup! _None_. He has his job, which he loves and gets to keep; he has his body, which I love and he gets to keep; he has his titles like 'Auror' and 'my man candy' (rarely did I actually call him that sober) and he gets to keep them too. It was a bit unfair I thought, that the female race had drawn the short straw in reproduction. Even the male orgasm was easier to induce. Harry couldn't really see the relevance of that comment - shows how much _males_ know.

The point is, I guess, I wasn't enjoying my pregnancy. Angela had said too, that I had better enjoy it now '_because once it comes out you wont sleep for a month', _so it seemed that I probably wasn't going to enjoy the post-pregnancy bit either.

My due date: January seventeenth. Hermione, in an attempt to cheer me up had _Googled_ that date for me one day and showed me all the _cool_ things she could find that happened on that day. These are the only two I can remember. On that day Britain retired the use of the red telephone boxes and some muggle comedian called Jim Carey had his birthday. I remember him because she said he was 'o_bnoxiously _not_ funny_' to which Ron replied '_he's bloody hilarious_'.

On December twenty-third – T-minus twenty-five days – I was being dragged through Diagon Alley to pick up some gift _we'd_ apparently ordered for someone. Harry had told me but I hadn't paid that much attention on account that I was fighting a jumper over my stomach and when he had tried to help me I decided I wanted a different one because _I can do it myself._ I was pregnant, as he liked to remind me, so that did not make me disabled, I liked to remind him. _I can get dressed just fine._ I wish I had some control over my _snapping_ _mouth_ but I just didn't. I tried but my stupid hormones didn't like my stupid jumper not fitting over my stupid fat gut and I stupidly snapped at my not so stupid husband who was trying to be helpful. I love _my man candy_ but my stupid hormones blamed him for our infliction... and I just couldn't help it.

I never let go of his hand the whole time we walked through the crowds of Christmas shoppers because suddenly my balmy hormones _liked_ Harry again. In fact my balmy hormones were being rather _friendly_ at the moment. They didn't even make me snap at Teddy who had this annoying cute habit of pushing my behind to _help_ me along. It was one thing to snap at Harry but I couldn't snap at Ted because I knew the six year old meant it only to help and not as a way of saying '_Oh my Ginny. Your butt is soo big_', it also helped that today his hair was red. I liked that he did that for me sometimes. For a six year old he was pretty insightful, incredibly sweet and totally adorable.

We entered a shop, thankfully, which was a bit warmer then the out side and my shirt had seemed to have come untucked and the cool air was attacking the exposed skin. It was also really great not to be out side where all the nosey shoppers were. Did you know that the news papers knew I was pregnant before I did? Well it was an unplanned pregnancy ok? But I wasn't actually pregnant when the papers started seeing this _imaginary_ baby bump on my stomach whenever I wore loose clothes. _Oh look, loose shirt, Ginny Potter is pregnant_. If they were right, then I'd have been pregnant constantly for the last eighteen months without ever having a baby. Medical mystery that one. And then they had the balls to say '_we told you so_' now that I actually am pregnant.

I let Harry take care of the present retrieval because I had no idea what we were picking up or who it was for. I just wanted to cover the cool strip of skin between my pants and shirt, where my jumper just dangled over. Then these freezing cold hands touched my skin.

"Ted!" I shifted a bit under his touch. His little hands were icy. "Where are your gloves?"

He shrugged but left his hand on my stomach. _It_ decided this was a good time to kick. This huge grin appeared on his face. That was usually everyone's reaction, but then they weren't being kicked from the inside, it probably seems like a laugh. "Harry said that if it kicks when you touch your belly it likes you. That means the baby likes me doesn't it Ginny?"

Either that or _it_, like I, was getting a bit tired of everyone touching me. But each to their own. And _it_ had never kicked _my_ hand.

"Sure it does Ted," I said gently to him.

He took his hands off my stomach letting me tuck my shirt it. I looked at Ted for a moment. He looked – nervous?

"What's wrong Ted?" I asked him. If I wasn't so immobile I might have bent down in front of him, I wanted to, but I couldn't, and if I did I was afraid I'd get stuck there.

He looked over at Harry who was still at the counter and then back to me. "Well I..." He shook his head then. "Don't worry Ginny."

"Common Teddy, you can tell me."

"Well," He shot another look at Harry. This was odd, it was like he was scared that Harry would hear and he wouldn't like it. I severally hoped this didn't turn into a '_where do babies come from_' kind of conversation. "When the baby comes out I was wondering if maybe, if it was ok with you, that I could call it my brother or sister. You know, because I don't have any."

I suddenly wished for the_ where do babies come from_ conversation. I could bull shit my way through that.

"Ted..."

"It's ok. You don't have to. I just..."

Fuck immobility. I don't know how I got there but had a sudden urge to hug him so I did. I tell you, balmy hormones had me on my knees in the middle of a shop. "Of course you can." I said into his red hair.

His little arms didn't reach around me like they once had and for the first time in a long time that didn't bother me.

"I promise I'll be really nice to them." He mumbled into my jumper.

Poor Teddy, he had no parents and he had no chance of brothers and sisters. A Grandmother, sure, an over protective God Father, definitely, but that couldn't be the same. Could it?

"Actually Teddy," I said, having thought of the best idea ever, if I do say so myself, "I don't want you to ask me. I'm asking you. Can you look after what ever is in my belly? Love it and be an over bearing big brother? You don't even have to be nice. _My_ big brothers never were. Is that ok? Can you do that for me, _please_?"

I think he meant yes when he squeezed the crap out of me. I don't do well with squeezing these days but I enjoyed it none the less. I really did love Teddy Lupin – especially with red hair.

That night I was sitting on the sofa with my almost empty dinner plate balancing on my stomach. I was getting quite good at balancing things on my stomach. Please note, peas are _not_ a good food to test out. My swollen feet were resting in Harry's lap because he'd placed his plate on the coffee table. We'd taken to eating in the living room because I liked the fire. More than I normally would have, and again I blame the balmy hormones. Somehow.

"Are you going to tell me about what happened with Ted today at Diagon Ally?" It was nonchalant but I didn't buy any of that from him. His acting skills needed fine tuning.

I shrugged. "Eh," was all I said picking a lone bean off my plate and eating it.

I think I recreated the fifteen year old Harry that liked to brood. His shoulders hunched a bit. It was like a Harry's specialised version of pouting. Way to adorable to resist.

"He asked me if when _it's_ born," Harry shot a look at me. I wasn't allowed to call it an '_it_' any more. "O-kay. When the _baby_ is born, can he call it his brother or sister."

Harry's eyes narrowed on me. "And you said?"

"Oh give me some credit. Of course I said _no."_

Harry's jaw dropped. Terrible tasted joke I know.

"Ginny _you_..."

"Shut up Harry. I was _joking_!" I talked over him before he barely started _chastising_ me. "Actually, _I asked_ him if he could be a good big brother and look after it.. The _baby_."

Silence came over us. I didn't want to be the first to talk. Harry really needed to say something. It wasn't like this was a big moment in our lives. I'd always assumed Harry and Ted were a packaged deal since the first day I saw Ted and Harry together – inseparable. It wasn't hard to imagine that he'd grow up probably idolising Harry like Harry had idolised Sirius. It was like an unspoken agreement.

"Good." was all he said.

"Just good?" I asked, a little miffed by his simple and vague answer.

"Yeh, it's good." He shrugged. This wasn't a shrugging kind of subject. _Even_ if I shrugged not even five minutes ago.

"Care to elaborate on that?"

He idly ran his finger over my toes. "Well, I guess I hope that he'd want to be, you know, apart of _this." _his other hand gestured at the gap between us. Obviously _this_ meant _us. _"I'm glad that he wants to be part of _it's_ life. That it's working out like that. I was worried that he'd feel, abandoned or something. I always wanted a family. Maybe a sibling or something. I don't know. But a family. That's why I loved the Burrow so much."

I eyed him for a second, ignoring his dig at me by calling _it_ an _it._ "So you want us to be Ted's version of the Burrow?"

"Essentially yes."

"I am not having _that_ _many_ kids Harry."

Harry laughed at me. "Gosh no."

I sighed in relief. Seven was, perhaps, six to many.

"Although, if you had six, we could include Ted then we'd have seven. You know what we can do with seven, Ginny?"

"I'd murder my husband for a start."

He laughed at me again. "No, we could have a whole quidditch team of Potters - one Lupin but that's a technicality."

I knew he was joking but he still had a wistful look in his eye. I really would probably try to smother him in his sleep if I had to have that many children. Imagine the chaos. Imagine all of them little Harry's with messy black hair with brooms buzzing around and _brooding_. Then it hit me and I realised that _maybe_ I was slower mentally than Ron.

"I'm sorry,"

"For what?"

"For sitting and whining about being fat. Complaining that my ankles look like milk bottles. For being moody and an unreasonable bitch. I just forget sometimes..."

Harry's eye brow rose. He was confused. Id spent so long being hostile and selfish that I guess that I was confusing him.

"Forget what?"

"Forget what a crappy childhood you had. And here I am complaining about a being hugely fat or quitting quidditch. I had everything you wanted growing and I was spoilt with love and you..."

"Shhh." He placed his finger on my lips. "Gin none of that was or is your fault."

"You just wanted a family." I took a deep breath. "And quidditch is just a _game_."

His eyebrow rose _so_ high. There was once, when I found out I was pregnant that Harry had said them very words to me, _quidditch is just a game_, and I had picked up the nearest thing, which happened to be a crystal vase we got as a wedding present, and threw it across the room and straight for his head. He only just ducked in time because he obviously didn't think I'd actually chuck the _Czechoslovakian crystal vase_ at him.

"I mean it's the very least I could do, isn't it? To have a baby."

He looked at me then with an unreadable expression. Like deep thought crossed with something else. Maybe. I thought for a moment he was kind of angry, for what reason he'd be angry I couldn't phantom. He shifted on the sofa, took my plate and tossed it on the coffee table with a _clank_. I frowned, maybe it wasn't _Czechoslovakian crystal_, but I still liked my plates. He squeezed into the almost non existent gap between me and the back of the sofa because his man-candy body still was able to _squeeze_.

"Its also the most you could do Ginny."

He ran the back of his knuckles over my cheek, because he knows how I like it when he does it. And when he kissed me I kissed him back. Properly, unlike I had in many months because for the first time I didn't really think my stomach's new shape offended me or that it was only there to make me miserable. When the kiss broke I looked down at my stomach. My huge stomach. My incubator. Harry's baby. His family. Hopefully Teddy's family. And that was the most I could give either of them.

I hadn't even realised that I had my hand on my stomach when I felt it. Harry's hand wasn't anywhere near my stomach. A small kick directly under _my_ hand. I think perhaps he wanted me to be nicer to Harry. Maybe. Maybe not. But that kick made my heart stop and go faster all at once. It made me feel a little warmer inside. A little bit lighter on the out side. And I wasn't an incubator. I was going to be a mum and not an oven.

"Harry, it kicked me. He _likes_ me."

My baby likes _me._

….I still might call _it_ and _it_ for while though.


End file.
